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I remember writing this... but I can't remember exactly when. I think it may have been as far back as eight/ten years ago... or maybe not that many, I can't place it for sure.
Anyway, here it does:
"Why do I write?
Why do you dream?
When I write, life recedes a distance and I am on a different level... where the temperature drops on the mist of my thoughts, condensing then into drops of words.
Then, like dew on a spiderweb... stringing into sentences and paragraphs. Images and feelings, swirling and fading, in and out.
I wanted to write because I loved reading so much as a youngster. I wanted to contribute something good back... and that's never changed.
When I emerge I am refreshed; renewed.
Day-to-day returns and I can face it with a cleared perspective.
...I have learned something from myself."
What do you think about that?
Why do you write? Hm???